


Meet you in Rebadeaux

by sadsackofagothichorrorheroine



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8231983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsackofagothichorrorheroine/pseuds/sadsackofagothichorrorheroine
Summary: Series of short Saints Row fics taking place during the second game, featuring boss Carina.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Police Chief Bradshaw comes to work. Someone's eaten his porridge.
> 
> Mostly for the purpose of loosening up my writing process.

The usual smell of old cigarette smoke in his office had been replaced with a sweet citrus overnight. Troy frowned in the doorway and stepped in, closing the door behind him. The blinds covering the large windows had been closed tight, and reports he meticulously stored in the archive cabinets lay scattered around the room. Orange peels had been tossed on his desk, chair, and floor, and a note rested on the keyboard of his computer.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he recognized the handwriting on the message, written on the backside of one of his reports. She’d used, then discarded on the floor next to the trash bin, the fancy fountain pen he’d received as a gift from the mayor’s office. She’d wanted to annoy him. Had taken her time to go through his office, eat her snack, write a note.

The smell of oranges was tangy and overwhelming. Not a downgrade from the underlying permanent eau de ashtray, Troy thought as he picked up and eyed through the crumpled papers -- more reports -- that had been carelessly tossed on the floor. She’d practiced how to address him before settling on what was in the finished letter in his right hand. Nice touch. Troy couldn’t tell whether it was a calculated move or if she’d genuinely wanted to call him Chief Fuckface as in one of the scrapped attempts.

Troy relaxed his shoulders and wiped the orange peels off his chair. Not something he wanted stuck on the back of his trousers. He sat down and read the note Carina had decided to go with.

 

> _Hey Chief,_
> 
> _Guess early mornings still aren’t your thing. And while I’m sure your kids here in the precinct are all very competent, gotta say, they aren’t exactly awake at this hour yet, either. Sneaking around was nice and easy, which was great for me, but probably not something for you guys to be proud of. No reason to go stingy with the stickers you hand out to them, though, especially neat hologram ones! I’m sure they love those._
> 
> _Anyway! What I came here at the ass crack of dawn for was info on our boys! Figured I’d find this shit still on your person, or office, whatever. Got wiretaps, your reports on Saints, personal notes, whole collection! Glad to see you’re still nothing but reliable and thorough, and reading this all, pretty sentimental, too. Thanks for calling me cute, warmed my heart right up!_
> 
> _I guess since technically you didn’t exactly hand me this stuff thanks might seem kinda... but still. Thanks. I needed these. ~~Maybe you knew I’d come looking and wanted~~_
> 
> _Look Troy, it’s fucking early and I’m fucking visiting **a police station** on my **morning jog**. In what universe, right?_
> 
> _In case you want to meet up or whatever, I’m leaving my number here. I doubt anyone else finds this mess before you do. It’s in your desk with your cigarettes. Bummed a couple. You’d think quitting would be easy after almost three years in a coma but guess not! Hit me up. If you’re planning on putting me back in prison, don’t hit me up. Not going. Don’t try._
> 
>  
> 
> _xo, C_
> 
>  
> 
> _PS: Ending a letter like that is just a habit. Go fuck yourself._
> 
> _PPS: Blue looks good on you, by the way. Although what the FUCK, Chief?_
> 
> _PPPS: Preferred you in purple._

 

Troy smiled crookedly at the letter and pulled open the upper desk drawer. Carina hadn’t lost her knack with locks. The mechanism was broken for good, but looked pristine. She’d taken the entire full pack of cigarettes he kept there in case of emergencies and left in its place a pink post-it, with a cellphone number written on it. He dug another pack out of his coat pocket and lit one of the remaining cigarettes, returning to his previous attempt of estimating how carefully she had staged the scene for him.

Carina had been a smart player when he’d known her as the new kid already. Observant, intuitively good at assessing her audience and tailoring her performance accordingly, yet it had never looked forced or too careful. Her initial reserved quietness had soon changed into trust and bursts of warm laughter that came easy, loud, and often in unlikely situations. She had been a master of projecting an air of carefree spontaneity, but was capable of switching into someone utterly ruthless in an instant. But in spite of that, she’d never seemed cruel, manipulative or calculating: only loyal to a fault.

Troy had liked the kid right from the start. She had been even younger than Dex, carried a sort of aura of innocence even through everything they did in the name of cleaning up Stilwater. Out of anyone of them still alive deserving a chance to start over, it was her. She’d lost years of her life due to actions of others. Except for Gat, they’d all let her down and betrayed her trust in some way.

Troy switched on his computer and looked up her current file. After waking up from coma and the subsequent prison escape, she’d been laying comparatively low. Her name had been linked to some car thefts and illegal fight clubs, but helping Gat escape was the most serious offense listed in the document. From what he’d heard, she’d helped Gat leave the city as well. Next to the things she’d done before the night on Alderman’s boat, she was now almost a saint.

The smell of oranges had either faded or he’d grown accustomed to it. Sighing, Troy lit another cigarette. It looked like Carina was just trying to make ends meet, in ways she knew best how. She was the one who’d had the least opportunity or time to change, so she probably hadn’t all that much. Julius had tried to convince him in the last days before dropping his flags the girl had turned into a monster about to overthrow them all, but Troy hadn’t believed that then, and couldn’t now either. He had seen the feverish unquestioning admiration shining in her eyes whenever Julius spoke. Troy felt the old sting of jealousy in the pit of his stomach.

He’d do his part to help her. He owed her that. She wanted to get a clean new start, and just needed some closure, on her terms. There had been some recent rumors of Saints coming back, but those came around every once in a while anyway. Carina most likely didn’t have anything to do with the new ones any more than she had with the ones surfacing during her coma.

 

* * *

 

He waited until returning from his lunch to dig the pink paper out of his shirt’s breast pocket. It had been burning a hole through the fabric the whole morning. Sitting in his car outside the station, he took a deep breath looking at the scrawled down numbers. She still had pretty handwriting. He knew the number was for a burner phone, but he’d almost memorized it already anyway. He’d be able to see her soon, awake. Carina.

He called the number. She picked up in seconds. Troy cleared his throat.

”Hey kid. It’s me. How you been?”


End file.
